


Partners

by anotherfngrl



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Domestic Discipline, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Partnership, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherfngrl/pseuds/anotherfngrl
Summary: The first time they dated, it was all flash in the pan and superficial passion. When they try again, they're both looking to build something that will last. Whizzer doesn't know how to do that, but he's willing to learn. And Marvin's willing to help him.Read the tags, please! There is spanking here, of multiple varieties!
Relationships: Jason & Whizzer Brown, Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	Partners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookiegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/gifts).



> This is a loose 5+1 fic. I didn't number, because I wanted the story to flow organically, but it's essentially "Five Times Marvin spanked Whizzer and one time Whizzer returned the favor".
> 
> In that, I managed to hit: a dubcon spanking in the Act One days of their relationship, deciding to start a domestic discipline relationship/ the first spanking, and scenes from an established relationship.  
> I tried to hit as many of your likes as I could! I hope you enjoy!

The first time he ever spanked Whizzer, it was just another fight- just another passionate night between two men too worried about sparking hot to think about how long they’d burn together.

“Where have you been?” he asks as Whizzer walks back in. It’s after ten o’clock. Dinner time has come and gone- Marvin made himself a sandwich and watched TV. Now he’s angry. Not that Whizzer’s cheated on him- that, honestly, is part of the thrill, that no matter how many men want this hot young thing, he comes home to Marvin. He’s angry because Whizzer’s upset their routine, failing to hold up his end of the bargain.

“Out,” Whizzer tells him casually, all sassy insolence as he hangs up his jacket. Marvin loves him in that soft, brown leather jacket. Loves peeling it off of him and feeling the skin-warm material against his fingers as they leave it lying on the floor, Whizzer’s passion for clothing eclipsed by pure  _ passion. _ But tonight, he’s too angry to be distracted by it.

“You could’ve called,” Marvin says, his tone making it an accusation.

“I was… in the middle of some things,” Whizzer says with a little chuckle. “Or, rather, someones.”

“If you’re going to run out and have a hot threesome, the least you could do is make sure I have a hot dinner,” Marvin says, getting up from the couch to advance on his careless lover.

“Oops,” Whizzer says, not looking sorry at all.

“I’ll show you ‘oops’,” Marvin threatens. He grabs Whizzer by the wrist and pulls him along as he sits, forcing the other man to fall across his thighs. “I didn’t get anything hot for dinner, so I’m in the mood for some hot buns for dessert!”

“What? Not funny, Marvin!” Whizzer yelps, trying to get up. Marvin has leverage on his side, though, and he clamps his right leg across his lover’s, holding him bent over his left knee. Whizzer’s flailing brings his outside arm into reach and Marvin grabs it, pinning it to the small of his back. Whizzer is well and truly stuck.

Marvin pulls his hand back and lets it fall heavily against the rear end before him. The smack it makes surprises him, as does the way Whizzer jumps. He apparently got that right. He lands another one.

“Marvin, this isn’t funny! Stop! I’m serious!” Whizzer demands, attempting to struggle.

“No, it’s not funny at all,” Marvin tells him, giving him a few more whacks to emphasize his point. “There’s nothing  _ funny _ about you not pulling your weight in our relationship. I spend all day working while you lounge around, and all I expect is someone and something hot waiting for me when I get home!”

Marvin continues spanking and Whizzer bucks, obviously unhappy. “Jesus, Marvin, I had a date!”

“What you do while I’m at work is your business. But I expect you here when.” A sharp smack. “I.” Another one, on the other cheek. “Get.” This one lands low and Whizzer groans. “Home!” And a final one, low on the opposite side, draws another unhappy sound from the man over his knee.

“Okay, Marvin! I’m sorry, okay?” Whizzer capitulates. “I missed dinner, you busted my ass. You’ve got your something hot, can I get up now?” he asks, snarky to the last.

“I’d like to see my masterpiece. An artist likes to be able to appreciate his work,” Marvin teases. He unfastens Whizzer’s belt and pulls down his pants and underwear. Whizzer’s backside is a lovely shade of pink. “Ooh, very pretty,” he says, rubbing the warm cheeks. Whizzer arches into his touch.

“You know, though, I’ve always liked you in red,” he muses, bringing his hand down again in another sharp smack.

“Ah!” That yelp was louder, harsher than the ones before it. It also wasn’t entirely displeased.

“I think you need a little firmer lesson before we call this done, Whizzer. What do you think?” Marvin presses, giving him another hard spank.

“Ah! Oh,” Whizzer pushes forward, though Marvin can’t tell if he’s trying to escape the spanks or get some friction. “I was really late,” he agrees.

“Hmm, you were.” Marvin takes a handful of Whizzer’s firm cheek, enjoying the way the skin whitens under his fingers. He releases it, giving him another sharp slap. “Very late.” He gives the other cheek the same treatment.

“And I didn’t call,” Whizzer points out helpfully, grinding down on Marvin’s lap.

“No, you didn’t.” Marvin pretends to consider this a moment, then lands two hard, fast slaps at the tops of Whizzer’s thighs. The man over his lap keens.

“And I- I didn’t leave a note!” Whizzer adds, apparently searching desperately for something else he’s done wrong.

“No,” Marvin tells him, giving him another spank. “You certainly did not.” He spanks Whizzer hard across both cheeks, low where it makes him moan.

“I um… Guhhh,” He rakes his nails across the pink flesh, and Whizzer seems to lose track of what he was trying to say.

“But you forgot the most important thing you did wrong, Whizzer,” Marvin tells him evilly, rubbing a hand down the center of his backside. “You forgot my dinner!” A thunderous slap makes Whizzer squeal.

“I think you need a good spanking to remind you not to make that mistake again, Whizzer. What do you think? You feeling  _ super?” _ he asks leadingly, massaging Whizzer’s cheeks while he waits for an answer. This is hot, and he wants to keep going. But now that some of his anger has been transmuted into horniness, he realizes he needs to know if his partner is enjoying this, too. Clark Kent is Whizzer’s safe word- if he wants out, all he has to do is say so. Clark Kent for stop, Superman for keep going- because, Whizzer had explained, the Man of Steel can keep going all night, just like him.

“I’m feeling just super, man,” Whizzer tells him, grinding down again. “I’m gonna get bored, though, if you don’t get on with it. What’s the matter? You tired, old man?”

Whizzer is obviously trying to rile him up so he’ll go back to spanking, but the other man’s plan backfires. Now that he knows Whizzer isn’t going to struggle out of his lap, Marvin rearranges his legs so Whizzer is spread out across the couch, ass across both of his thighs. Then, just to be mean, he spreads his legs so Whizzer can’t find any friction.

“Me? Never. I can keep this up all night long. And I might have to, to get  _ you _ to learn your lesson,” Marvin scolds, resuming the spanking. He spanks hard, pausing occasionally to shake the sting out of his palm or rub it out on the hot bottom before him. Whizzer’s getting really red, and after a few minutes Marvin relaxes his thighs, allowing them to fall together and giving the desperate man wriggling over his knee some much desired friction.

“I don’t ask for much, Whizzer,” Marvin says, spanking faster to match the desperation the man across his lap is showing. Whizzer is definitely pushing for more, now- alternately pushing up into the spanks and down into his lap, desperately shifting around trying to get enough friction to make himself come. “I just expect you to be here to take care of me when I get home from work. Like I always take care of you.”

“I will, I will! Just  _ please, please,” _ Whizzer begs.

“What, Whizzer?” Marvin asks, releasing the arm he’s kept pinned to Whizzer’s back, so he has a free hand. “You want me to ‘take care of you’?” he asks, snaking that hand between their bodies to wrap around Whizzer. The other man  _ sobs _ with relief.

“Yes, please, guhhh, I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” Whizzer promises, begging, and Marvin lays down a last, hard pair of spanks as he pumps and the other man comes, sobbing in relief.

Marvin stops spanking, gently stroking the hot, sore flesh before him. He needs to get some lotion on that. Maybe aloe vera. Spent, Whizzer slides to his knees, and Marvin lets him go, unsure how he’s going to react. This isn’t something they’ve ever discussed before, during their mild forays into kink, and he’s deeply aware that it isn’t something he should’ve sprung on his lover.

So he’s very surprised when his boyfriend pushes his thighs apart and begins unfastening his pants. Marvin’s incredibly turned on, so his dick springs out as soon as Whizzer frees it. He grabs the younger man by the hair, pulling him back until his throat stretches out.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“Taking care of you,” Whizzer says, all smoldering want, and Marvin releases him, lets him get back to work. They’ll take care of Whizzer’s ass when he’s done.

The last thought he has before he blisses out is that he’s a genius, and he’s really stumbled across something, here. Something that could  _ work. _ But they fall into the shower and straight to bed afterwards, without talking about it. The next day, he gets a wedding invitation. Two days later, Whizzer’s gone.

The second first time Marvin spanks Whizzer is nothing like the first.

It’s Jason, of all people, who’s brought them back together. Because for all Whizzer always pretended it was just sex and the stability of a lover who paid the bills between them, he’d never been able to pretend with the kid. Whizzer loved Jason, and Jason looked up to Whizzer as the coolest guy he’d ever met. Marvin’s son connected with the younger man on a different level than he did his parents, or Mendel. Trusted him, when he wouldn’t listen to the ‘adults’. A bond of camaraderie had formed between them during Whizzer and Marvin’s relationship, almost like a trusted big brother and his worshipful little brother. So Whizzer sent presents at Hanukkah and Jason’s birthday and took the kid out occasionally for ice cream, but usually during the week where Marvin didn’t have to see him. Until Jason invited Whizzer to his baseball game.

Their first date was tentative, neither of them quite sure how to mesh the closeness they’d once shared with the newness of what they were doing. But they quickly found their old rhythm. Or a new one, very much like it yet somehow better.

Whizzer had been doing some modeling, and he kept it up. So there were occasional nights where he  _ wasn’t _ home for dinner, but they were planned and Marvin understood. Whizzer never disappeared for rendezvous with other men or couples, anymore. And the way they fought was… different, in a way Marvin couldn’t immediately grasp.

One day, he came home and laid his jacket over the back of the couch, as he often did. Whizzer picked it up with a distasteful sneer. “That is the ugliest piece of clothing I’ve ever seen,” he told Marvin with a scowl, standing and making a show of dropping it on the floor with a derisive huff.

It was a fight Marvin was sure they’d had before. But today, something was different. Whizzer wasn’t sitting back and smirking, goading him into a fight that would ultimately end in maybe-too-rough sex. He was watching him closely, waiting to see how he’d react.

“Are you trying to make me angry?” Marvin asks, genuinely nonplussed.

“You like to fight,” Whizzer tells him, unexpectedly sullen.

“I like a  _ challenge,” _ Marvin corrects. “But mostly, I like you.” He sits beside Whizzer, putting a hand on his thigh. “Where’s this coming from?”

“What do I have that she didn’t?” Whizzer asks suddenly.

“What?” Marvin asks, startled.

“What do I have that she didn’t? One thing. A dick. There are plenty of guys out there who’ll fuck you. I’m not making you chase me, anymore- that game’s over. I don’t have it in me to pretend I want anything but what I want. And what I want is you. And you like to fight,” Whizzer insists again. He’s nervy- insecure. Marvin is briefly bowled over. He never expected this.

“Okay, maybe when we were together before, we both started too many petty fights, just for the passion. We don’t have to keep doing that,” Marvin assures him, trying to get a grip on the situation.

“What is this, then? If there’s no challenge, no chase, no game, no passion?” Whizzer demands, standing up.

“Love,” Marvin tells him, voice full of certainty even as he inwardly quakes with the confession. It is love, it always was. For him, anyway. If it isn’t for Whizzer, it’s better that he finds out now.

Whizzer shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. That’s not enough-  _ I’m _ not enough. I’m a part time model. I’m terrible at domesticity. Love implies  _ home _ and  _ together _ and something permanent, something real. You never wanted that with me.” The disbelief in his voice is painful, like he thinks this is a cruel joke.

Marvin tries not to be hurt. Whizzer didn’t say ‘no’ after all. He just said he didn’t believe it. And with how Marvin treated him before, he can’t blame him. He built a facade of a happy family, last time, but he never actually told Whizzer he wanted them to be a family, only that he expected dinner on the table at six. God, he’s an idiot. “I do want it with you. I think I always did, I was just afraid of it,” he admits.

“Marvin, you kicked me out over chess because your wife was getting married to your psychiatrist,” Whizzer points out flatly. “She’s the one you wanted forever with. I was just supposed to be a dirty little secret.”

Marvin feels terrible, that he let the man he loves feel that way.  _ “You _ were never the dirty secret,” he struggles to explain. “I was. How I felt, what I wanted. That’s what I was ashamed of, not you.”

“If this isn’t just…” Whizzer waves his hand, trying to articulate his point, “an early midlife crisis… what is it? What do you want?”

“A partnership. A life together,” Marvin tells him immediately. He hid from it before, and he lost the man he loves. He’s not making that mistake twice. Whizzer won’t stay if he doesn’t ask. One thing he’s learned about his lover- Whizzer never stays where he isn’t absolutely sure he’s wanted,. He goes  _ far _ too easily anywhere he’s invited, but he doesn’t stay past the pleasure without an explicit request. It paints a worrying picture of the beautiful man’s sense of self worth.

Whizzer shakes his head, baffled. “I- what are we doing, here? Really?”

“What do you want to be doing, Whiz?” Marvin asks. He’s disturbed to realize he’s never asked that, before. He’s just taken what  _ he _ wanted. He’d assumed a man as beautiful and charming as his lover wouldn’t stick around, if what Marvin offered wasn’t what he wanted. Now, he’s beginning to wonder.

Whizzer considers the question, like maybe he hasn’t really thought about it either. “I want to be… someone you want to come home to,” he admits, his voice small.

Marvin immediately crosses to him and hugs him. “You are, sweetheart. I promise you, you are. I’ve wanted that for a long time. Even the years we were broken up.”

“I… you know that time, right before you kicked me out? Not the sex part, so much, but you taking charge. I liked it, when we played at it. I think I might like it for real,” Whizzer admits.

“You want me to spank you?” Marvin asks. “Why?” he asks, bothered. That night had freaked him out, as much as it had turned him on. Because he’d hurt someone he loved. Only a few days later, he’d gone to confront Trina about her marriage and slapped her. He’d hated the angry, bitter man he was then, lashing out at everyone around him. He doesn’t want to become him again, hurting the people he loves.

“I want to know I have a chance to do better, when I screw this up,” Whizzer tells him, voice full of reluctant honesty. “I know how to play the game. I don’t know how to build a life. You’ve done it before, at least. I’m not saying I want some fifties throwback, where you’re going to beat me if I burn dinner. And I don’t want to be a wife. But I do want- what you said. To learn how to be your partner. I want that, Marvin. I want it so much. And I’m not going to get it right all the time. I don’t like fighting just to fight and I don’t like letting you down. Teach me to do better,” he pleads.

Marvin holds him close for a long moment, considering. “Okay. Okay. If we’re going to be partners, we have to take care of each  _ other. _ We have to think about how what we do affects each other, and make choices with that in mind. And we have to take care of ourselves. I’ll spank you if you screw it up. But Whizzer, if we’re partners, that gives you the right to call me on things, too. I’m not always gonna get it right, either. Part of a partnership is picking up the slack, when one of us stumbles.”

Whizzer nods hard. “I can do that.”

“Okay,” Mavin says nervously. “Okay. We’re doing this, then. Starting with a spanking right now, I think, for picking fights instead of telling me how you were feeling,” he decides.

Whizzer gulps nervously, clinging a little tighter. “I’m sorry,” he breathes.

“I know. And you’re going to be okay. I’m not angry. And this will help you remember to talk to me next time, instead of picking fights,” Marvin assures him. He takes Whizzer’s hand and gently leads him to the couch. It’s the same place he’d spanked the other man years before, but this feels totally different.

He’s led his lover here by the hand, not yanked him roughly over his knee by the wrist. And as he takes down Whizzer’s pants, the other man stands contrite and nervous, not pinned and spitting mad. The other difference is that neither of them is even a little bit turned on. Marvin certainly isn’t feeling sexy, here- this is about love, not sex, and those are different things. He’d guess from his expression that Whizzer feels the same way.

He unfastens Whizzer’s jeans, sliding the faded material down the other man’s legs. The electric green thong makes him smile- his lover does have a flair for dramatic underwear. He decides to leave it up, since it won’t block his target. He doesn’t want nudity confusing Whizzer’s body.

Marvin tugs gently, and Whizzer settles himself across the couch, ass pushed up by Marvin’s legs. He takes his place willingly, accepting his lover’s correction. “I’m sorry,” Whizzer repeats.

“Shh, I know. It’s going to be okay. Now, tell me why I’m about to spank you.” Marvin strokes Whizzer’s back soothingly while he waits for an answer.

“I’ve been picking fights, instead of just talking to you. I was scared you’d get bored of me, and I made both of us miserable instead of telling you how I felt,” Whizzer confesses.

“Very good. This spanking is to help you remember to talk to me, next time,” Marvin tells him, and he lands the first spank. Whizzer’s legs straighten behind him, obviously reacting to the sting.

Marvin hardens his heart and keeps going. Whizzer needs this- Whizzer  _ asked _ for this. So he spreads sharp spanks across the beautiful cheeks before him. Whizzer grunts quietly when a spank finds an especially sensitive area, but does his best to remain still. That lasts the first two dozen or so.

By then, Whizzer’s backside is bright pink, and he’s begun crossing and uncrossing his legs in response to the swats, obviously fighting not to react. Marvin decides there are a few things he should remind Whizzer of.

“Do you know the other reason I’m spanking you, Whizzer? The reason I’m going to spank you anytime you need it?” he asks.

“No. Ugh, AHHH!!! No, I don’t,” Whizzer yelps in response to a few swats low across his backside.

“I am spanking you,” Marvin gives him two sharp cracks before he continues. Whizzer’s whole body tenses. “Because while I don’t have any interest in fighting you, I am more than willing to fight _ for _ you. And it means more to me than I can say that you’re willing to fight for us, too.” He’s continued spanking to emphasize his point, and now he gives Whizzer a dozen hard whacks before he continues.

“So I’m going to put you across my knee, bare your bottom, and spank you hard every time you need it. But do you know what I’m not going to do?” He pauses, giving his lover an especially hard smack across both cheeks.

“Noooooo!” Whizzer whines. He’s kicking, now, near constantly as he copes with the sting in his rapidly reddening backside.

“I’m not going to give up. I’m not going to decide you aren’t what I want, or you’re too much work, or that I want you to become a perfect housewife. Because  _ you, _ Whizzer Brown, are who and what I want. You’re not just a body I want to have sex with. You’re the man I love.” Marvin finishes that declaration with a thunderous slap across the center of Whizzer’s backside, and the younger man abruptly dissolves into noisy sobs.

Marvin immediately decides it’s enough. He strokes Whizzer’s back, pushing his polo up so he can caress bare skin, rubbing soothing circles and murmuring comforting nonsense while he waits for the other man to calm. The man over his knee continues to cry, wrapping his arm around Marvin’s leg. “I love you, Marvin,” Whizzer confesses. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“Shhhh, you’re okay. You did so well. I love you, too,” Marvin promises, guiding the other man upright so he can hold him. Whizzer sinks into his arms, relieved and boneless. Marvin strokes his hair with one hand, taking advantage of the way Whizzer is kneeling up beside him on the couch to use his other hand to gently stroke the red cheeks, soothing the sting.

“I’ll be so good. I’ll do my best from now on, I swear, Marvin. You can spank me as much as I need. Just please don’t send me away again,” Whizzer begs. The desperation in his voice makes Marvin feel like a heel- he’d never for a second thought that Whizzer was more than annoyed at being dumped, back then.

“Never, sweetheart. Never. I won’t ever put either of us through that again,” Marvin promises, kissing him softly. Whizzer sighs into the kiss, comforted by his steady reassurance.

They were very gentle with each other that night, and for a few days afterwards. Just the knowledge that they were both willing to go to those kinds of lengths for their relationship comforted them both, and they stopped fighting so much, settled into easy domesticity.

The next time Marvin spanked him, Whizzer was having a really rotten day.

The shoot he had scheduled got rained out and rebooked, since they were shooting outdoors. He’d called Marvin at lunch to complain, and his lover had been busy, assuring him he’d see him at home but on his way to a meeting and unable to commiserate.

Whizzer  _ hates  _ rainy days. They feel so dreary, so  _ pointless. _ Normally, when he gets like this- jittery and tense, burning with a need to  _ do _ something- he goes for a run. But he can’t, in this weather, and his usual racquetball partner is working. He knows he could find another partner if he just went up to the gym, but their gym is mainly frequented by other gay men, and it’s as much pick up spot as workout area, for single guys. If he shows up solo, someone’s going to try to take him home. And as much as that used to thrill him, the idea just makes him even more annoyed today.

He tries one of the jazzercise videos Trina lent him a few weeks ago in the living room, but all he manages to do is knock a lamp over onto the floor when he trips. So he’s stupid, clumsy,  _ and _ destructive. He’s useless.

He figures that maybe he can salvage the day and at least make a delicious dinner. Marvin will come home and see a lovely meal, and Whizzer will change into a nice shirt and slacks from his jeans and sweater. It’ll all be very homey and romantic. That’s how this couple thing is supposed to go- love and passion in the mundane. Pleased, Whizzer looks around the kitchen for inspiration.

He decides to make matzo ball soup, proud of himself for thinking of it. It’s the perfect weather for soup, and this is the kind of meal  _ Trina _ would think to make. Not just food on the table, but home cooked, Jewish comfort food. He’s just getting ready to put the matzo balls in when Marvin comes in, earlier than usual. He feels a stab of annoyance. If his lover had been on schedule, dinner would’ve been ready. So much for his romantic meal.

“Something smells delicious,” Marvin says, coming in and kissing him.

“Yeah, well, it’d be done if you’d been on time. You’re early,” he complains. His lover raises an eyebrow at the attitude, but doesn’t comment. That frustrated Whizzer all over again. He’s being an ass and he can’t seem to stop himself- isn’t Marvin supposed to  _ help _ when he gets like this? He feels adrift and strangely out of control- he’d wanted a nice evening, the comfort of making Marvin happy. Now, he’s pissing the other man off instead.

“You sounded stressed on the phone. I finished my meetings, and nothing on my desk was urgent. I thought I’d cut out early, come home and keep you company,” Marvin tells him easily, rubbing a gentle hand up and down his back. Whizzer leans into the touch, then remembers he’s supposed to be cooking.

“Just stay out of the way,” he orders, flicking the wooden spoon he’s stirring the soup with at his lover in annoyance. Marvin holds up his hands and settles in one of the kitchen chairs.

“I’ll just sit here,” the older man assures him gently, like he’s a spooked animal. Whizzer’s simmering anger boils over.

“Do whatever the hell you want, you’re going to anyway!” he snipes, and he’s very surprised when Marvin stands back up.

“I know you’re frustrated, but is that any way to talk to your partner?” Marvin asks sternly.

Whizzer’s throat goes dry. “No,” he admits softly.

“Come here,” Marvin says, pointing to a spot just in front of him. Reluctantly, Whizzer does. His lover turns him sideways, wrapping an arm around his waist and using it to bend him over. “That’s enough of that fit, Whizzer. I’m here to listen if you need to vent, or keep you company if you’re feeling out of sorts. But I will not be spoken to so rudely. Am I understood?” He’s landed a pair of hard spanks between each sentence, and Whizzer is feeling thoroughly sorry for himself by the time it stops.

“Yes! I understand! I’ll stop!” he promises. Marvin helps him back up, turning him back toward the stove with a firm pat to his rear.

“Good boy. Now, finish your soup and tell me about your day,” Marvin orders.

Of course, Whizzer thinks, because Marvin is just looking for someone to be waiting at home with a hot meal when he finishes work. He couldn’t stop for a  _ hug _ for his miserable boyfriend when the soup is cooking! Heaven forbid he comfort Whizzer and put dinner behind schedule. A distant part of him is aware that he’s being unfair, that there’s nothing stopping him from turning around and taking a hug, but he’s feeling strangely unreasonable and pushes that part down.

When he doesn’t speak, Marvin asks, “How was your day?” prompting him again to share.

Whizzer is twice as out of sorts as he was before Marvin swatted him, so he ignores the question and focuses on adding the matzo balls. It’s a less satisfying distraction than he’d hoped, and when the first matzo balls go in the soup and immediately fall apart, he feels angry tears threatening.

“Did you chill them?” Marvin asks, looking over his shoulder. “Trina said you have to chill them, to give the liquids time to soak in. Otherwise they fall apart.”

Whizzer loses it. He shoves Marvin back. “Get the  _ hell _ out of the kitchen while I’m cooking!” he demands. When his boyfriend only stares at him, stunned, he lobs the wooden spoon at his stupid face.

The spoon lands low, striking Marvin in the chest, and Whizzer feels the blood drain from his face as he realizes what he’s done. He’s  _ attacked _ his boyfriend. Forget not wanting to fight verbally, there’s no way Marvin wants a failure of a partner who can’t cook dinner and breaks his lamps and then caps it all off by attacking him when he’s upset.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, feeling himself losing his battle with tears. “I’m sorry, Marvin, I’m so sorry.” He stares at the spoon where it’s fallen on the floor, hunching his shoulders as he waits for Marvin to tell him to get his things and get the hell out.

Instead, Marvin picks up the spoon, wiping it off on the dish towel hung on the drawer handle beside him. “Turn the soup on low. It’s going to have to wait for a few minutes,” Marvin instructs. “And put the rest of the matzo balls in the fridge. They’ll be chilled by the time we’re finished.”

“Finished?” Whizzer whispers.

“You push, I pull, remember? That was a hell of a push,” Marvin tells him firmly. Whizzer almost whimpers, ashamed of himself. But- he doesn’t know what Marvin means.

“Pull?” he asks. He’s apparently stuck on single word questions.

“I’m here to help when you have a bad day, Whiz. I’d rather help by listening while you gripe and snuggling you when it’s over, but if you’re going to throw tantrums and spoons, I can help by spanking you instead. Come here,” Marvin instructs. Whizzer hasn’t moved to obey, yet, so his partner takes the matzo balls and puts them in the fridge himself, then holds out the hand not containing the spoon.

“You’re going to spank me?” Whizzer asks quietly, surprised. He’d thought this was too much to be fixed with a simple punishment. This day has gotten away from him in terrible ways.

Whizzer is a mass of conflicted feelings as he processes this development. On the one hand, the spankings he’s gotten within their new agreement are  _ not _ fun or sexy. He doesn’t enjoy them at all. It hurts, his backside and emotionally, as he thinks about how badly he’s messed up. On the other hand, if Marvin is spanking him, that means he’s going to sort it out. Whizzer desperately wants his lover’s help, even if he is surprised to be getting it after how terrible he’s been.

“You don’t think you deserve it?” Marvin asks him incredulously.

Whizzer shakes his head. “No, I do. I definitely do. I just thought this might be… toobigtospankmefor,” he admits, the last few words coming out all in a rush, like he’s afraid if Marvin hears them he’ll realize Whizzer is right.

But Marvin only shakes his head. “What? Having a bad day and losing your temper?” he asks fondly.

“I could’ve hurt you,” Whizzer confesses, so ashamed he can hardly breathe. He  _ attacked _ Marvin. He never wanted to be that person.

“I was never in any real danger. It might’ve stung some if it got me in the face, but a wooden spoon won’t do any real damage- when you throw it at me or when I spank you with it,” Marvin assures him.

“Sp- spank me with it?” he asks nervously.

“Yep. You provide a perfect implement, you can’t be surprised when I use it. Now come here, and let’s get this over with and fix your soup,” Marvin tells him, firm but gentle.

Whizzer scrubs the tears from his face and nods, taking Marvin’s hand when he holds it out again and letting himself be gently tugged away from the stove. Marvin pulls, indeed. The other man uses an ankle to hook the chair he’d been sitting in, moving it closer to the center of the kitchen before he sits down. Marvin hands Whizzer the spoon as his hands settle on his younger lover’s hips. “We’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” Marvin assures him. “You threw a fit, you’re going to get a sore bottom. That’s the worst of it.”

That is utterly mortifying, but hugely comforting at the same time. He’s  _ so glad _ Marvin is taking charge of the situation, but he hates that he’s screwed it up so badly to begin with, that Marvin  _ needs _ to spank him. Especially after the warning he got earlier- it should’ve been enough to make him behave. He’s a disaster.

Marvin pulls down his jeans and guides Whizzer over his knee, leaving his thong in place. Whizzer whimpers but goes without complaint. “You hang on to that spoon, sweetheart, until I need it. Can you do that for me?” Marvin asks.

Whizzer nods, hard. “I’ll hold it!” He clutches the spoon tightly, determined to show Marvin he can be good.

“Good,” Marvin says. “Now, why am I about to spank your pretty bottom?”

Marvin strokes his back as he asks, and Whizzer just feels so  _ small, _ stretched across his partner’s knee. He feels small and nervous and sorry, but he also feels safe, and  _ held. _ He hangs on to that feeling as he answers.

“I took my bad day out on you instead of talking to you. I tried to kick you out instead of letting you help. I shoved you, and I threw the spoon at you,” he confesses.

“Very good, Whizzer. That’s exactly right. Part of being in a relationship is taking care of each other, and that includes emotionally. That means you need to let me help,” Marvin scolds.

Whizzer swallows hard and nods, accepting the correction. Without further conversation, his lover begins spanking him. Marving is spanking hard, his palm landing over and over with unerring accuracy, exactly where Whizzer  _ doesn’t _ want it.

Marvin has his legs spread so that Whizzer’s chest is supported by one thigh and his bottom is splayed across the other, his legs hanging down. That makes kicking difficult, and when Whizzer straightens his legs, pushing his toes against the linoleum floor, it only pushes his bottom higher for the punishing spanks. Marvin takes advantage and gives him a few hard swats low at the crease where his cheeks meet his thighs. He sobs, immediately lifting his feet and bending his knees.

“No,” Marvin tells him gently, “I think that’s a good idea. Push that naughty bottom up for me,” he instructs.

Whizzer cries harder, embarrassed. It’s awful, having to push his bottom up to receive the hard spanks he’s earned, and he hates it. Marvin puts gentle pressure on his back, just below where his position forces it to arch, and peppers the tender crease where he sits with hard, fast spanks. Whizzer shudders and cries.

“Now, I would’ve much rather had you  _ in _ my lap, complaining about your bad day. But instead, I’ve got you over it, getting spanked. Which I’m sure is only making today worse. Just like pushing me away instead of letting me help only makes things worse,” Marvin scolds.

Whizzer cries pathetically, thoroughly regretting all of his choices. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” he assures Marvin.

“I know, sweetheart. And once your poor bottom is nice and red, to help you remember, we’re going to try this again. We’re going to rescue your soup and you’re going to tell me all about your bad day, and I’ll listen and commiserate all you want. I wish I’d been able to earlier, when you called. But you can tell me all about it in a few minutes when your spanking’s finished,” Marvin assures him as he spanks. Whizzer sobs. Marvin’s going to make it better. Whizzer just has to take his spanking, and his lover’s going to fix everything he messed up.

“In fact, I think you’re almost ready to be done. What do you think, Whizzer? Are you ready to give me the spoon so I can finish your spanking?” Marvin asks.

Whizzer groans out a sob. Handing the spoon over means more awful, sharp spanks. His mom liked to spank with a spoon- he knows how much they sting. He doesn’t want to be spanked with it. Marvin’s hand hurts plenty, but he feels connected to his lover by the firm hand spanks. The spoon is just a reminder of all of the terrible things he did. But Marvin’s just going to keep spanking until he hands it over. So, slowly, reluctant and miserable, Whizzer gives his lover the spoon.

“Good, Whizzer. That was a good choice,” Marvin praises him, and however ridiculous and childish it is, it makes Whizzer feel better, and he preens under the attention.

Until Marvin taps him lightly with the spoon, warning him and judging his distance. Whizzer sucks in a breath, and his lover raises the wicked implement far too high before bringing it down  _ hard _ on Whizzer’s already thoroughly spanked right cheek.

“Nooooo!” he howls, throwing a hand out to prevent more blows. “Nooo, Marvin, it hurts!”

“It’s supposed to,” Marvin tells him regretfully. “Now, move your hand.” Whizzer shakes his head. He  _ cannot. _ He handed over the spoon. He invited this awful spanking. He’s still got his toes pointed against the tile, pressing his bottom up. He’ll, not gladly, but willingly, at least, keep his bottom in place for as many more hand spanks as Marvin thinks he deserves. But he can’t bear another crack with the spoon.

“Yes, sir. You’re going to move your hand and you’re going to get a dozen spanks with this spoon,” Marvin scolds. Whizzer shudders miserably. “Then your spanking will be all over, baby. Doesn’t that sound nice? A nice cuddle, once your spanking is over?” Marvin reminds him.

Whizzer whines. He wants a cuddle. But he doesn’t want a dozen more hard spanks first, especially with that wicked spoon. “Your hand instead?” he asks hopefully.

“No, sweetheart. You don’t shove me, and you don’t throw things. I’m afraid this naughty bottom has earned the spoon,” Marvin tells him. He taps the spoon low on his left cheek to emphasize the point, not real spanks but enough to sting. Whizzer whines miserably, but he can’t reach far enough to stop him.

Marvin continues with the little taps, landing them all across the very lowest part of his bottom, which Whizzer can’t quite reach to defend. They sting sharply, and he hates them. Marvin’s other hand rubs soothingly across his back, even as Marvin spanks. “Put your hand up on your back, baby, and I’ll hold it off while we finish. Twelve more and we’re done. That sounds better than lots more little spanks  _ plus _ twelve big ones, doesn’t it?” Marvin asks. “Because I’m just going to keep giving you these little spanks until you do.”

Whizzer really, really wants the little spanks to stop. Even if it means big spanks on his sore bottom, at least it’ll be over soon. He sobs, sliding his hand up. Marvin takes it gently, intertwining their fingers.

“Good boy,” he praises Whizzer. “Deep breath, now, we’re going to do them fast.”

Indeed, the last twelve spanks take less than twenty seconds, if he had to guess. Whizzer howls through every one of them, feeling the last of his helpless frustration purged by the sharp spanks. Then, it’s over, and Marvin is rolling him over to sit in his lap, petting his hair and telling him how well he did.

Whizzer stares at him, scrubbing the tears out of his eyes. He can hardly believe it as Marvin assures him that he’s loved and forgiven, that he’s perfect. Any other relationship he’s ever been in, he would’ve been kicked to the curb. And here Marvin is, being understanding and sweet. Whizzer shakes with the shock of it, leaning further into his lover.

“I love you,” Marvin whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his hair.

“You really do,” Whizzer tells him, amazed. “And I love you, too,” he says, confident, for the first time, in the knowledge that neither of those things is going to be changing any time soon.

He stays curled up in his lover’s arms and recounts his bad day, and suddenly none of it- not missing out on his shoot, or the weather, or being incapable of doing Trina’s  _ stupid _ jazzercise tapes or making matzo ball soup like she does matters. Because Marvin doesn’t love jazzercise and matzo balls. Marvin loves  _ Whizzer. _

Whizzer settles down a little after that, for a few weeks at least. He gets the odd swat and warning, but he listens, and adjusts, and Marvin doesn’t have to spank him again for almost a month. The security of knowing he’s loved no matter what does wonders for the younger man, and he blossoms.

Whizzer has always been beautiful. But when he’s happy, he’s radiant. And everyone at the gym notices. Whizzer gets more smiles and coy looks than is normal, even more him. He ignores them all until they get to their racquetball court, but as they’re getting out their rackets, he waves at the men going into the court across the hall.

He and Marvin step into their court, and Marvin is getting out the balls when he looks up and sees Whizzer flirtatiously making a “Who, me?” face. He sees Marvin watching and winks, which only encourages the other man. Marvin watches as the man across the hall rather rudely gestures what he’d like to do, and Whizzer merely smiles, giving him an “Oh, you!” teasing wave.

Marvin whacks his racket against his partner’s backside, making him jump. “Locker room, now,” he orders.

“We haven’t even started playing!” Whizzer insists.

Marvin raises an eyebrow, and Whizzer gets the message and heads for the locker room. Inside, Marvin grabs his wrist and drags him to a secluded corner.

“Our lockers are in the next bay,” Whizzer tells him, confused.

“Oh, I know,” Marvin assures him, putting his left foot on the bench in the middle of the changing area. “Come here.”

“What?” Whizzer asks, licking his lips nervously.

“I saw that little byplay, Whizzer. Come here,” Marvin tells him.

“I wouldn’t cheat on you, Marvin!” Whizzer assures him, looking genuinely upset. “I swear. Not… anymore.”

“I know that, Whiz,” Marvin assures him, softening his tone. “I wouldn’t be spanking you if I thought you wanted out of the relationship. This is for trying to rile me up and make me jealous.”

“Oh.” Whizzer says, his voice small. “I guess I’m still worried you miss the chase,” he admits.

“The thing about chases is that they end. But if you get really, really lucky, you catch what you were chasing. And once you’ve got it, that can go on forever,” Marvin assures him. Whizzer looks at him, wide eyed, and nods. “Now, come here and take your spanking,” Marvin tells him firmly.

“Somebody could come in!” Whizzer says, scandalized.

“We’ll hear them before they can see us, over here. And if you’re worried about being seen, you’d better hurry up!” Marvin tells him.

Whizzer swallows hard but drapes himself over the waiting knee. Whizzer wears a jock strap instead of underwear under his sports clothes, and the white shorts he plays racquetball in are so thin Marvin teases the other man that they might be indecent. So he doesn’t bother pulling them down, only smooths them out, pulling them taut before landing a firm slap to the presented backside, low across both cheeks.

“What is this spanking for?” Marvin asks. He needs proof of understanding, always, of what they’re trying to do here, before any punishment.

“I tried to make you jealous. I wasn’t flirting because I want somebody else or anything, I was just manipulating you. You deserve better. And-” Whizzer hesitates. “I didn’t think about how it could hurt you, seeing me flirt with somebody else.”

“I know you, and I know you didn’t mean it,” Marvin assures him. “Hang on tight, these are going to sting,” he warns Whizzer, before giving him a dozen more spanks all in the same place, across the middle of his sit spot. It’s a quick correction, in deference to the public location. But the slaps are fast and hard, and he knows they burn.

Indeed, when he helps Whizzer up, the other man is a little teary and looks slightly stunned. “Owww,” Whizzer whines, and Marvin pulls him into a hug. Somehow, the taller man manages to duck down to rest his head on Marvin’s shoulder.

“You’re forgiven,” he assures his younger lover, pressing a kiss to Whizzer’s perfect hair. The man in his arms hums happily, content and, for the moment at least, secure. The short spanking hasn’t been enough to make him cry, but Whizzer is a little clingy and Marvin lets him hold on for a long moment until he’s ready to let go on his own.

“Do you still want to play?” Marvin asks, once they separate.

Whizzer hesitates, then starts toward the court. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow,” Marvin suggests, getting a good look at his partner from behind.

“You already spanked me! It’s not fair to take me home,” Whizzer whines.

“Honey,” Marvin tells him, grabbing him up in another reassuring hug, “If we go back out there, everyone that sees you is going to know I just spanked your pretty bottom. Your shorts are so thin I can see your poor red spot through them.” Marvin pats the red patch of flesh to make his point. “And we know everybody in the building is watching your gorgeous ass.”

Whizzer blushes scarlet. It’s one thing, Marvin knows, to be vulnerable with his partner. It’s quite another to have a whole chunk of gay Manhattan know he gets his bottom smacked when he acts up.

“You go get changed, and I’ll retrieve our stuff and release the court,” Marvin tells him, patting him on the bottom to get him moving. Whizzer jumps and goes.

Marvin kisses him hungrily when he returns with their things, wanting to make sure his lover is okay. Whizzer kisses him back eagerly, smiling. “You claiming what’s yours?” he whispers, gesturing to the other men changing, who had been looking at him appreciatively.

“I think I’ve already left my mark,” Marvin whispers back, patting the sore spot he knows is under Whizzer’s jeans. His partner goes up on his toes a little to avoid his hand. Marvin takes a handful of the sore flesh, not letting go until Whizzer relaxes, accepting his touch. Then, he gives the abused skin a soft little rub, kissing his partner again. “Let’s go home. I can think of some other ways we can exercise, just the two of us.”

Whizzer earns more spankings, but less and less often as time goes on. He’s really internalized that his partner loves him, that Marvin wants to help and he doesn’t need to push for a reaction just to feel seen. To both of their surprise, he takes to domesticity beautifully. They compromise- Marvin brings home dinner if Whizzer has a shoot, and they go out to eat 1-2 times a week, so Whizzer doesn’t feel obligated to play perfect housewife with a warm supper. Some days, he calls his lover and imperiously demands to be taken out, and Marvin just smiles and acquieces, because it makes him happy, and Whizzer’s needs matter, too. Marvin also hires a maid, explaining that, since both of them have jobs, it’s not fair for all of the household tasks to fall to Whizzer. He finds that makes him feel less like a housewife or a servant, and more like Marvin’s equal.

The differences are startlingly apparent a few months later, when Whizzer earns a spanking for the first time in over a month. He knows he’s done it and what he deserves before Marvin finds out. It all starts when he gets a last minute call asking him to fill in for a shoot after his lover has left for work, and he takes it eagerly.

That wasn’t a mistake. Marvin respects that Whizzer has a job now, and he never interferes with him working. The problem is, Whizzer thinks it’s going to be a quick shoot, so he doesn’t call his partner. They have problems with hair and makeup, though, and then some of wardrobe is missing. So when Whizzer looks at the clock and realizes it’s 4:40 and they haven’t started shooting his photos yet, his stomach sinks.

He knows Marvin wouldn’t expect him to walk off set. Marvin would’ve been happy to sort out his own dinner, if his lover had warned him he wouldn’t be home. But he doesn’t want Marvin arriving home to an empty apartment. They’re past the point where the other man would think he’d left, or he was cheating, but he knows it wouldn’t be a nice feeling. So he asks about a private phone and excuses himself to a spare office to call, hoping against hope he can catch his lover before he leaves the office.

“Hi, Marvin,” he says when the other man picks up, relief coloring the words.

“Whizzer! It’s good to hear your voice. It’s been a hell of a day. I’m on my way out the door now, you just caught me. Is something up? Do you need me to pick something up for dinner? I’m famished,” Marvin tells him, chatty and unconcerned.

Whizzer feels terrible. Marvin’s had a bad day, he should have a partner around to listen while he complains and make him dinner. That’s what they  _ do- _ listen and support each other when things are rough.

“I’m so sorry,” Whizzer apologizes softly. “I messed up, I’ll take my spanking as soon as I get home,” he admits, hoping Marvin will get that he understands the mistake he’s made.

“What happened?” Marvin asks him gently.

“I booked a last minute shoot, only it’s running way over time, and I just looked at a clock and realized you were about to be headed home, only I wasn’t going to be there, and neither was dinner. I’m sorry, I feel like a jerk,” he admits guiltily.

“Mistakes happen. I appreciate you thinking of me, belatedly, and letting me know. I would’ve worried if I’d gotten home and you were gone,” Marvin tells him.

“I should’ve told you when my plans for the day changed, just like you tell me when your plans change. So you were prepared in case it affected you,” Whizzer tells him.

“Whiz, I’m proud of you for realizing you made a mistake and doing what you could to fix it, after the fact. So yes, I’m going to redden your pretty bottom when you get home, but I’m not mad, or upset. A little disappointed not to get to have dinner with my favorite guy, but that’s life, and I’ll survive. I’ll stop somewhere and grab a bite- do you want me to bring you something home?” Marvin offers.

Whizzer is steadied by the care, and bolstered by Marvin’s praise. This is better, so much better than things used to be, even if he is going to get ‘hot buns’ for his failure to have a hot dinner waiting. No, he corrects himself- Marvin has given ground about that, out of respect for his work. For his failure to communicate with his partner.

“There’s craft services here. I’ve been snacking, all of the hours I’ve been sitting around, and they’ll bring in dinner if they keep us much later. So I’m fine, thank you,” he tells his lover.

“Then I’ll see you when you get home, and after I spank you, you can tell me about how you got invited to do a shoot last minute! Have fun, honey,” Marvin tells him.

Whizzer hangs up the phone, feeling a little apprehensive about what’s waiting for him at home but mostly just grateful. He’s so lucky to have a partner who’s stuck with him, all of the times he’s gotten it wrong. Who understands, and helps him learn to get it right.

It’s almost eleven by the time Whizzer finally makes it home from the shoot. Marvin is in his pajamas and watching TV. Whizzer yawns, flopping onto the couch beside him for a hug. “Not only were they slow, they wanted a million takes of some action shots, lots of jumping and landing,” he reports. “I’m beat.”

“Poor thing. Did you get dinner?” Marvin asks, running his fingers through Whizzer’s hair.

Whizzer nods, burrowing into his lover’s neck. He figures Marvin is about to spank him, but he’s enjoying a moment to reconnect first.

Marvin kisses him softly. “Why don’t we go ahead and get your spanking over with, then you can tell me about the shoot while you get ready for bed?” he suggests.

“I want to hear about your long day, too,” Whizzer counters as he stands, moving to Marvin’s right side and unfastening his own pants.

“Deal.” Marvin tugs his pants down, not bothering with the thong, and Whizzer kneels on the couch. His partner gives him a quick kiss before helping him into place. “What is this spanking for?” Marvin asks.

“I forgot to think about how me changing my plans might affect you. I waited until the last minute to let you know,” Whizzer confesses.

“Very good,” Marvin tells him, giving him his first hard spank. Whizzer’s tired, and by a dozen he’s moving around a little in discomfort, whining low in his throat when a spank catches a particularly sensitive spot.

He spends the second dozen clenching and relaxing his cheeks, moving his hips from side to side in a futile attempt to avoid the sting. Marvin puts a firm hand in the small of his back, the steady pressure calming him and slowing his wiggling. Still, by the end of the third dozen, he’s jumping and yelping after each swat.

He’s very, very surprised to feel Marvin stop, rubbing his stinging cheeks gently instead of spanking them more. “Marvin?” he asks, confused.

“That’s all the spanking you need, honey. You fixed it, before you got home. If I’d come home to an empty apartment and had to worry about you all evening, I’d have spanked you until you cried and couldn’t sit down on your red bottom. But you didn’t abandon me with no word and make me worry, you were just a little inconsiderate. So you got a little spanking,” Marvin explains.

“Oh,” Whizzer says softly, processing this realization. “Thank you,” he says softy, sitting up and leaning heavily against his lover.

Marvin kisses him, chivying him to his feet. “You’re exhausted. Let’s get ready for bed.”

They talk about their days as Whizzer gets ready for bed- they’ve both spent the day surrounded by idiots failing to do their jobs. But luckily, they had each other to come home to, albeit later than hoped. They’re very lucky men.

When he’s ready for bed, Marvin takes Whizzer into his arms, kissing him hungrily. Whizzer lets passion overwhelm all of his stressed, negative feelings from the day, and they make love gently before falling asleep in each others’ arms.

Whizzer and Marvin are  _ partners- _ they take care of each other, through good and bad. They support one another when they aren’t at their best, and they’re always better together. The spankings have only helped, giving Whizzer a clear set of boundaries as he’s learned to be part of a couple and helping him learn from his mistakes. He’s grateful his lover has been willing to do this for him, even if it hurts for a little while.

The next time a spanking is delivered in their house, it isn’t Marvin who delivers it.

The bar mitzvah is driving the whole family crazy. Marvin is complaining about Mendel helping Trina gang up on him, and how unfair two against one is. “Why didn’t you call me?” Whizzer asks, stopping the other man in his tracks.

“It wasn’t your problem,” Marvin tells him.

“Excuse me?” Whizzer asks, sitting up from where he’d been reading the paper. They’re having a lazy weekend, and they’re still sitting around in pajamas. Except Marvin has finally gotten around to telling him about a fight he had with Trina and Mendel about the venue earlier this week, and now he’s pacing the room with wild frustration.

“It’s Trina and I’s mess to sort out, so Jason can have the best bar mitzvah possible,” Marvin explains.

“Two things: One, Mendel is obviously involved. I love Jason just as much as he does, so it makes just as much sense for me to help. And two, anything that is your mess is also my mess. That’s what being partners is all about- sharing the load. You’re the one who taught me that,” Whizzer tells him.

“This is different,” Marvin insists.

“How?” Whizzer asks patiently.

“It just is!” Marvin yells.

His pacing takes him past the couch, and Whizzer grabs his arm and tugs him down so they’re sitting side by side. “You once told me that as your partner, it’s my job to call you on things, too. That you wouldn’t always be right. Well, Marvin, you’re definitely not right this time. This isn’t something you have to do alone. It’s about our family, and you’re the one who introduced me to the kid when we first dated, and connected us to begin with. Let me help,” Whizzer insists, his tone scolding.

Marvin takes a deep breath. “You’re right. If you had a kid, I’d expect you to let me help when you got stressed taking care of him. And I let you help with other things- when he’s sick, or when he’s having trouble with his homework. I guess I kind of freaked out because this feels like a Trina thing, more than a Jason thing. Even though it’s supposed to be for him,” Marvin admits.

“Honey, I don’t care if it’s a man on the moon thing. It’s also a you thing, and that makes it a me thing, too,” Whizzer tells him softly.

“If you’d insisted on handling something this big without me, I’d turn you over my knee,” Marvin says, half joking, half unsure.

Whizzer hesitates. The idea hadn’t occurred to him, but he will if it will help Marvin sort this out in his head. “A partnership only works if we share the load. That goes for both of us- it’s not just about you being strong and taking care of me,” Whizzer scolds. Marvin nods.

Decision made, Whizzer guides his unresisting lover over his lap, pulling down his loose pajama pants once he’s in place. He’s never spanked another person in his life, and he’s briefly frozen by indecision. How does he do this?

He decides to just do what Marvin would do to him. “Why am I going to spank you?” he asks softly.

“I didn’t ask for help when I needed it. Even when you offered, I tried to do it alone,” Marvin admits. “That’s hard on me, and it’s not fair to you. You’re every bit an equal partner in this relationship, and that means you have the right to expect to be involved in things that are important to me,” he adds.

“Very good. I’m going to spank you now, so you remember. Next time Trina winds you up about decorations or Mendel starts making inappropriate suggestions about entertainment, you remember your sore butt and call me so I can help,” he instructs. Marvin nods, and Whizzer begins spanking.

The mechanics are fairly straightforward. Lift hand, apply forcefully to posterior. He spreads his spanks across the waiting flesh before him, smacking Marvin with straightforward sincerity and watching his skin blush. The other man gradually goes from wiretight with stress and embarrassment to loose and relaxed, shifting away from sharp spanks and making breathy little ‘ow’ noises, but accepting the correction.

Whizzer concentrates on the area low on Marvin’s sit spot, where he knows the sharp spanks will sting worst. He spanks that area over and over until he feels the man over his knee start to twist, really trying now to avoid the next spank. He presses down to firmly anchor the other man in his lap and shifts his target, giving the tops of Marvin’s thighs the same treatment. Marvin whimpers, protesting, and kicks his feet in displeasure. They’re not done yet- he’s not sure how he’ll know when they finish, but he’s sure they will.

His sign comes a few smacks later, when Marvin puts his head down and cries. His butt is bright, hot red Whizzer knows must burn badly, and he focuses his attention now on comforting the crying man over his knee. “Shhh, shhh, you did so good. It wasn’t easy, giving me control, I know, but if you can do that now, you can share control so I can help with the bar mitzvah. And Marvin? If I’m someone you can  _ trust _ with that now, trust to help you, trust enough to  _ spank _ you, it’s because of you. You showed me how to be a good partner, now it’s time for me to show you what I’ve learned and help.”

Marvin laughs, pleased and bright. “I had a clever pupil,” he says. “You learned fast.”

“I was invested in the subject,” Whizzer tells him.

“Lucky me,” Marvin says, kissing him. Whizzer kisses back happily, letting Marvin take control of the kiss. He’s happy to take control when his partner needs help, but it isn’t their natural order of things. He gladly leans back as Marvin climbs on top of him, nuzzling at his neck.

Later, they’ll have very late waffles and call them brunch. Trina will call to worry about the venue and Whizzer will tell her they can go look at it together, on Monday while their partners are at work. He’ll help Marvin find compromises when he can, and listen to him complain when he can’t. He’ll do whatever Marvin needs, and Marvin will do whatever  _ he _ needs. Because that’s what partners do.


End file.
